


Don't Play Pianoman

by lucyrne (theungenue)



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: F/M, Giveaway fic, pianoman au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 01:20:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3791278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theungenue/pseuds/lucyrne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maka and her friends Liz and Patty try out a new nightly haunt for bar trivia, only to discover that it is a piano bar staffed by a sauve bartender Kilik Rung and sarcastic, bitter pianist Soul Evans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Play Pianoman

When Maka first heard of Sam’s Piano Bar, she did not take its name literally until she sat down on one of its leather barstools. The intimate space was awash in red light, and centered in the middle was an oblong counter decorated to resemble enormous black and white piano keys. In the middle of the oval bar sat a real grand piano made of dark, shining wood.

Unlike the hulking instruments Maka had seen in hotels and other concert halls, this piano was also outfitted with speakers, a soundboard, and a microphone stand. An Apple laptop and iPad were perched atop the piano, and a couple cords snaked across the wood surface and crawled out of sight.

She sat with her friends Liz and Patty Thompson on three barstools and collected small sheets of paper and tiny, sharpened pencils–all standard fare for a bar trivia night. Behind the bar was a tall, young black bartender dressed in a white shirt and waistcoat. Liz eyed the bartender and commented on his cornrows and glasses, but her blue eyes were trained on his body more than his face.

The three girls were brainstorming a good trivia team name (Patty’s suggestion of “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Penis” was what they eventually decided upon.) when the pianist emerged from the back room. His white hair drew Maka’s eye instantly. Shaggy and unkept, the pianist’s blazing hair starkly contrasted his black button down, which was tucked into dark pants. Face blank, he ignored the bar patrons, settling onto his piano bench and firing up his laptop and iPad.

In the red light, his eyes took on an odd, crimson color. Maka stared at him, intrigued, and when he noticed her blatant interest, he gave her a small, toothy smile.

With a heavy sigh into the microphone, he finally addressed the crowd. “Happy Humpday,” the pianist said, though his deep, velvety voice sounded anything but happy. “For the noobies in the audience, I’m Soul, your piano entertainer tonight. Back here with me is Kilik, your bartender. Trivia starts at 8:30. Till then, we’ll play some tunes. Submit your requests, or just yell them out, I don’t care.”

“‘Pianoman!’” a patron cried out.

Soul’s eyebrow twitched. “Any other requests?” No one spoke. “Seriously?” Sighing, he eyed the room. “Alright then, you,” he said, pointing at an older man at the bar, “are going to be the old man making love to his gin. As usual, Kilik is John at the bar. Hey buddy,” Soul pointed to another man, who didn’t appear to realize that he was being spoken to. “Yeah you over there, take your wedding ring off because you’re going to be the real estate novelist with no time for a wife.” A low rumble of laughter swept through the room. Maka rested her chin in the palms of her hands, deeply intrigued by this strange, caustic musician.

Just before he began to play, Soul appeared to remember something and reached down underneath his chair. He pulled out a clear, empty vase adorned with a simple sign: TIPS HERE. He placed it on the piano within reach of the barflys, looking at the room of patrons pointedly.  

Soul cracked his knuckles, and without further ado he tapped out the opening chords of the song. His singing voice had a higher pitch than his speaking one, and it had smooth, rich timbre as his voice dropped low to rumble through the song’s deepest notes and swung high to capture its highest crescendos. Maka, who was utterly uneducated on matters of music, had never heard a voice so soothing and enticing all at once.

As Soul referenced each character, he would give the corresponding patron a nod. The man making love to his gin smiled and raised his glass. The real estate novelist with no time for a wife glowered while his friends laughed. In accordance to the lyrics, Kilik the barman mimed exhaustion and death; this was an act he had obviously put on before, but unlike Soul, he still found it a little fun.

Maka and her friends learned how seriously Soul took his tip jar about three quarters of the way through the song.

“AND THEY SIT AT THE BAR AND PUT BREAD IN MY JAR,” Soul sang, obviously eyeing his empty tip jar. He looked accusingly at his patrons, especially Maka, Liz, and Patty. “AND THEY SIT AT THE BAR AND PUT BREAD IN MY JAR/AND THEY SIT AT BAR AND PUT BREAD IN MY JAR/AND. THEY. SIT. AT. THE. BAR. AND. PUT. BREAD. IN. MY. JAR–Oh,  _fuck_  you guys–AND SAY MAN WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?”

When the ballad was over, Soul took a sip of water. “Now that that’s over…”

“Hey Sam, play ‘Ring of Fire!’” A voice from the crowd yelled.

“This is Sam’s Piano Bar, so of course my name is Sam,” Soul said cooly. “Too bad it’s trivia time. My favorite part of the night.” Judging by his lack of enthusiasm, Maka wondered if hosting trivia was a duty that was forced upon him.

While other patrons readied their teams, Liz beckoned Kilik to their group so he could refuel their well drinks. Patty and Maka exchanged knowing glances while Liz questioned Kilik about himself and the bar.

“People ask Soul to play ‘Pianoman’ at least six times a night,” Kilik admitted to them between flirtations with Liz. “He hates it. Most of the time he just ignores them or pretends that they requested ‘Rocket Man’ instead. It’s a crowdpleaser though, and he usually whips it out when he wants to impress.”

“Who’s he impressing?” Liz asked coyly. Kilik feigned ignorance and just shrugged. Maka was certainly impressed by Soul’s skills after that one song, but judging by the sad state of his tip jar, she was the only one. She usually opened tabs when she went to bars, but in the future Maka decided she would bring some cash so she could tip Soul as he deserved.

“Number one,” Soul droned. He was reading from a binder that likely housed the trivia questions and answers. “In what year did the first Academy Awards take place?”

There was a flurry of whispers around the room. “The last one was the 86th right?” Patty said. “Just subtract 86 from 2015.”

“Math queen, you’re up!” Liz said to Maka. Turning over their paper, Maka did some simple subtraction and found that 86 years ago, it was 1929. They wrote their answer down and covered it jealously.

Once trivia was over, the three lingered so Liz and Patty could request their favorite songs. From ‘Gangster’s Paradise’ to ‘Don’t Stop Me Now,’ Soul seemed capable of playing any song. For faster-paced hip hop songs with a strong beat, Soul would select something on his laptop, curl his hands around the microphone, and briefly beatbox until the computer achieved a crisp recording. With his beatbox playing on a loop, Soul would take to his piano and sing a rousing rendition of the latest request. It was a fascinating operation to watch, even if Maka didn’t know the song he was playing.  

The girls won their first bar trivia game on their fourth visit. The questions were random and hard to predict, but somehow repeated experience made them much easier to answer. Slowly becoming permanent fixtures on every Wednesday night, the trio started arriving earlier in order to chat with Kilik. Unfortunately, Soul only ever arrived at the last minute, limiting them to only a few sparse words exchanged between songs. Perhaps that was why his tip jar never accrued more than a few dollars a night.

On their fifth visit, Soul called out Liz and Kilik’s growing attraction in front of an entire bar of patrons. “I hear you’ve accosted Kilik for his personal information,” Soul murmured into the microphone that night while playing a soft piano chord. Liz looked around as if to say ‘Who, me?’ while Kilik unabashedly grinned behind the pianist. “It doesn’t matter how many dates you take him on. He is never gonna tell you the answers to trivia.” Behind Soul, Kilik crossed his arms and silently shook his head with a stony look on his face. “Not unless you pay him five dollars a question,” Soul added. To this, Kilik began to nod slowly in agreement.

Watching Liz and Kilik’s attraction play out in front of her caused Maka’s mind to wander to Soul who, as the weeks went by, took firmer hold of her imagination. She had been mildly interested in him on the first night, but her attraction had only deepened once she started to see him play once a week.

Submitting her own music request soon became her most vital and confusing mission. His knowledge of popular and classic songs far outpaced her own, but Soul still couldn’t play every song under the sun. What if they didn’t like any songs in common? What if she submitted a request and he didn’t even want to play it? Calling out her request was out of the question. She would have to go through the proper channels and–after several minutes of deliberation–submit her request through paper.

She arrived at trivia with her song request already chosen, but once the request slip was in her hand, Maka’s mind blanked. She wrote down the closest thing she could muster and laid it on the bar edge. Kilik picked it up swifted and delivered it to Soul, who was still finishing up his last request.

Used to having requests yelled at him, Soul looked genuinely surprised to see that slip of paper. He read it carefully and swallowed a smirk. “Uptempo Woman.” Soul tried to read it blandly, he really did, but at the end he couldn’t hide his snicker. “Is this drunk code for ‘Uptown Girl?’ Do I need to call a cab for one of you?”

Ignoring the room’s quiet chuckling, Maka spoke up. “No cab needed. I just got a little mixed up.”

The contempt on Soul’s face vanished and his fingers immediately began the song’s opening chords. “Well, that’s alright,” he said, looking at his piano keys. “I learn five or six new songs every week, happens to me too.”

Light embarrassment was stinging her cheeks red when the song began. “UPTEMPO WOMAN,” Soul sang, grinning as he watched Maka flush and smile back. “LIVIN’ IN AN UPTOWN WORLD–” He sounded clumsy trying to fit extra syllables into the song, earning him a few more laughs and applause around the room.

Liz and Patty looked spectacularly smug. Silently as to not interrupt the pianist, Patty pinched Maka’s arm and mouthed, “Lock. That. Down.”

Though his performance of ‘Uptown Girl’ was high-energy and marvelous, Soul had deflated back to his usual self by its end. “Okay folks, what’s next?”

“Pianoman!”

“I just lost the ability to hear. Let’s do ‘Wagon Wheel.’”

The three girls lingered at the bar past midnight, each half-hoping that Soul would take a break or leave his piano’s side for even one damn second. While he did cast more interested looks towards Maka and her friends, once his set was over and the bar had cleared, the pianist robotically packed up his things and disappeared through a back door.

It was the slow start of an even slower flirtation, but the spark was enough to keep Maka’s Wednesday nights clear.


End file.
